


Colour Me Surprised

by raiining



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 18:23:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiining/pseuds/raiining
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's not <i>setting him up</i>, Kate tells herself.  She's giving him options.  It's not her fault that Clint's a complete idiot when it comes to relationships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colour Me Surprised

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story because Kate Bishop needs to be in all things. SHE WOULD BE AWESOME IN MAoS! Come on, show, prove me wrong. I dare you. I DOUBLE dare you!
> 
> *g*
> 
> HUGE thanks to Ralkana for the suggestions and the cheerleading, and LOVELY thanks to Sproutgirl for betaing this for me. THANK YOU LADIES!
> 
>  
> 
> Note: there is very slight Kate Bishop/Skye, so if you are reading this story for that couple, please don't hold your breath! Someone needs to write me more Kate/Skye, though, because I've decided these two girls will take over the world.

“He’s dating again.”

There’s a robot flying towards her on a straight line – it’s an easy shot, so she uses the opportunity to take out the other two attempting to flank her before spinning back around.

She draws her bow but the robot goes down in a shower of sparks before she can shoot. “You’re attention should be on the battlefield, Hawkeye, not your mentor’s love life,” Coulson says through her comm. 

Kate snorts. She holds the tension of her draw as she scans the battlefield, finding a robot about to fire on Jemma’s position. It goes down with her arrow through its gun-port. “It’s not exactly a challenge to do both. Besides, Clint’s not my _mentor_. He’s more like that guy I hang out with because he’d be even more pathetic without me.”

“Fitz, if you have the EMP ready, now would be a good time,” Coulson says, instead of acknowledging how right she is. “Hawkeye, on your three o’clock.”

“Got it,” Kate tells him, sighting the robot and firing. She shoots the one behind it, too. “She’s nice and everything,” Kate goes on, watching as Agent Ward eliminates two robots with his sidearm, “but completely wrong for him. I don’t know why he insists on dating women who can’t put up with his bullshit.” She takes out the third approaching Ward's position.

“Is she pretty?” Jemma asks, peeking out over her hiding place. She fires a jury-rigged taser at three approaching robots and grins when they all go down.

“Gorgeous,” Kate agrees. Four other robots veer off to investigate Jemma’s attack. The taser-thing seems to be recharging, so Kate eliminates them before swinging back to check on Leo. “She isn’t going to last, though. Clint’s going to stand her up once and then forget to call her for a week and that’ll be the end of it.”

“Can we please focus on the problem at hand?” Coulson tries, getting cut off when one of the larger robots equipped with a flamethrower spews fire in his direction. Kate draws her shot, but once again someone beats her to it. This time it’s Agent May, standing coolly at Coulson’s six, picking off anything that gets too close.

Kate grins. She doesn’t work with S.H.I.E.L.D. very often, but she _likes_ this team. 

“Is he really looking for a long term relationship, though?” Ward asks. He drops two robots, reloads his weapon, and shoots two more. “Maybe he’s happy with something casual.”

Kate settles for only mentally rolling her eyes, since she needs to be constantly scanning the battlefield. “Please, have you met him? Clint is the very definition of man-child in need of a clean and stable home.”

“You make him sound like a puppy,” Skye points out. She’s typing on her laptop behind Ward, trying to trace the origin of the robots' attack signal.

“The puppy is better house trained than he is.”

“Leo, the EMP, please?” Coulson interrupts, sounding a little strained. “Any time.”

“I've almost got it, I…” Something crackles over the line, and Leo shouts. “I've got it! I've got it! In five, four –”

The robots abandon their individual attacks and start to converge on Leo’s position. Kate swears under her breath and begins drawing two arrows at once. She knows Ward, May, and Coulson are also firing. They only need to hold them off for a few more seconds…

“Three, two – ”

There’s a _click_ over the comm. and the robots start falling out of the sky. They hit the ground, bounce once or twice, and then come to a stop. Kate hops down from her ledge with an arrow on the string, but nothing moves. The rest of the team follows.

“Skye,” Coulson asks, his weapon still trained on the robots, “what do we have?”

“GPS coordinates and I’ve got a bead on the source code,” Skye says, sounding pleased with herself. Kate thinks it's sexy. “Do you want me to hack the line or are we paying this mad scientist a visit in person?”

“I think in person would better convey the gravity this situation requires,” Coulson answers. 

“Yeah, because nothing says ‘you made poor life choices’ better than a team of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents knocking down your front door,” Kate says with a grin.

“It’s half the fun of our job,” Ward tells her with a straight face. 

“Are you coming along for the take down?” Jemma asks. “Or do you have somewhere to be?”

Kate shrugs and looks to Coulson. The senior agent holsters his weapon and gestures to the Bus. “After you, Hawkeye.”

She grins and leads the way. They rock-paper-scissors-lizard-Spock for the honour of kicking down the door. Ward wins, but Kate gets to follow behind him with her bow drawn. It pretty awesome.

“Thanks for lending a hand today,” Coulson tells her, once the scientist has been dropped off at the Sandbox. He brings her a juice-box from the kitchen. She’d protest that he’s treating her like a kid, only she can see that he’s got one for himself, too.

Kate shrugs. “You practically landed in my backyard, I couldn’t exactly say no.”

“You could have,” Coulson disagrees, handing her the box with the little detachable straw. “You have no responsibility towards S.H.I.E.L.D. I do appreciate the assistance, though.”

“You didn’t need me,” Kate says with a smile. She knows this play. “Tell S.H.I.E.L.D that I’m not enrolling in the Academy, no matter how many times someone asks nice. I’m perfectly happy where I am.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Coulson tells her. He sounds completely serious, but she can see the smile lurking behind his eyes. She laughs and stabs the juice box with her straw. 

“This is pretty good,” she admits, draining the sugary snack. “I wouldn’t mind one with alcohol, though.” 

“FitzSimmons and Agent Ward will be going out tonight for a post-battle celebration,” Coulson tells her, settling in on the couch. “I’d say your welcome to join them, but I believe you mentioned having a previous engagement.”

“Ugh, yes,” Kate says, remembering. “I can’t believe I agreed to help Clint put effort into this disaster-in-the-making.”

“While I agree that Agent Barton does have a rather terrible dating history, I don’t think losing all hope is exactly fair.”

“I’m being realistic,” Kate defends. “Do you know how painful it is to watch him make the same mistake over and over again? You know what I’m talking about. You were his handler for, what, five years?”

“Almost six,” Coulson tells her. His voice is even, but she can sense a kindred spirit. 

“And how many successful relationships did he manage in that time?”

“Well, we were part of an active strike force, taking off at a moment’s notice to land in hostile situations all over the world. It would be foolish to imagine that anyone could have managed a second date, let alone a stable, healthy – ”

“How many?” Kate presses.

Coulson sighs. “One, and that’s if you count Agent Morse.”

“I don’t think any relationship that ends in broken bottles and tears, with Clint calling her by her call-sign rather than her name, exactly counts as a ‘stable and healthy’ relationship,” Kate points out. 

“I agree,” Coulson admits. “Still, I’m sure the potential exists. Don’t give up on him just yet.”

“I’m not giving up on him, he gives up on himself,” Kate says with a sigh. “That’s half the problem. The other half is that he continues to choose the most inappropriate women to become involved with. Clint needs someone _older_ than him, not younger. He needs someone more mature, who understands his crazy schedule and doesn’t mind working around it.”

She stands and tosses her empty juice box into the recycling container. Coulson watches her with a sympathetic eye.

“Clint needs someone he can trust,” Kate goes on, starting to pace. “Someone who gets him and his ridiculous history. Someone who won’t judge him for it, who’ll give him a chance, but will call him out when he’s being an idiot. He needs someone who... someone who...”

She catches Coulson’s eye and stops. The senior agent waits, finishes his juice box, and puts it down. “Go on?”

Kate stares at him. She can feel the beginnings of an idea.

“Ms. Bishop?” Coulson asks.

It could work. It would take a little finagling, some coercion, and maybe a bribe or two, but...

“I don't want to know,” Coulson decides, standing up from the couch. “Whatever it is, I don't want to know.”

She watches him leave, weighing possibilities in her head. “Not a word,” she says, even though Coulson's already gone. “Not one word.”

At least, she tells herself, not out loud. 

 

*

 

First thing's first. Kate would hate to put thought and effort into this if it was doomed to failure from the start.

“So, hey, are you into guys?”

Clint starts, spilling coffee. “Aw, Katie...” He replaces the carafe before shrugging out of his now soaking shirt. “You did that on purpose.”

She lifts one shoulder. Blue plaid was never meant for a first date. “Go put on the purple one like I told you to originally and answer the question.”

“You're the worst. I don't know why I asked you to come over.”

“Because you're bad at this and need all the help you can get?” she asks, smiling when he walks of his room wearing the right clothes. “That's better.”

He rolls his eyes. “Thank you so ever much, and, also, why do you want to know?”

She shrugs. “Inquiring minds.”

“Uh huh. I'm leaving for a date in, like, five minutes.”

“And it's going to go absolutely nowhere,” she tells him, then feels bad when his expression falls. “Aw, Clint, no. I just meant that – well, you're kind of bad at this.”

“Thanks,” he says, trying to sound like he doesn't care and failing miserably. “I didn't know that.”

“But it doesn't help that you keep dating women who are completely wrong for you.”

“So you're, what, a romantic guru now?”

“Don't make this about me,” Kate dismisses. “I'm just saying that you need some help, and maybe the first step is the simplest.”

Clint sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “It's not about gender, Kate. Yeah, I've dated – or fooled around, at least – with a couple of guys before. That's not going to magically make things better, though.”

“I'm not saying that it will,” she presses, “but it _is_ different. It's a change. Maybe that's a good thing.”

“I love that your offering me this advice,” he says, checking his watch, “ _three_ minutes before I'm leaving to pick up Christine. Great timing there, Yoda.”

“Nothing but the best for you, padawan.”

He rolls his eyes and checks his pockets. 

“Do you have your wallet?” Kate asks, running him through the checklist “Avengers ID, cell phone, condoms?”

“Yes, yes, and – ew, Katie, please.”

“No glove, no love, mister. Keys?”

“Yes, I have,” he stops and looks up to where she's holding his key ring. “Oh.”

“Yes, _oh_ ,” she mimics. “What would you do without me?”

“Remember to grab them thirty-five seconds from now when I try to lock my door?” 

“Please,” Kate says, rolling her eyes as she hops off the counter, “like you lock your door.” She strides over and adjusts his shirt, her nimble fingers straightening the hem. “For what it's worth,” she goes on, not meeting his eyes. “I hope you have a good time tonight.”

She doesn't need to look at him to hear his smile. “Thanks, Katie-Kate,” he says. She risks a glance up and sees his expression change to a smirk. “Remember, if there's a world-wide emergency tonight, you're on call.”

“Oh, great,” she huffs, waving at him as he winks at her and walks out the door. “Jinx it why don't you?”

 

*

 

Three hours later, covered in a glowing blue goo that's starting to tingle, she glares. “I'm going to kill him.”

 

* 

 

Kate sleeps for eight hours straight that night after showering twice – once at the Avengers mansion and once at home – because she's earned it. By the time she makes it back to Clint's apartment, it's closer to evening than to mid-afternoon. Lucky's waiting fr her by the door and Kate takes him out, clipping on his leash more to keep the city happy than because he needs it to stick close.

She's back and putting a pot of coffee on when Clint walks in the door. 

“It's a little late for the strut of pride,” Kate says, turning away from the counter. “Do I need to – oh, no,” she sighs, getting a look at the state of him. “What happened?”

He makes a face, rubbing the back of his neck unhappily as he drips onto the linoleum. “It's not what you think.”

She throws him a dishtowel. “So, the date wasn't a disaster?”

“Oh, the date was a disaster,” he agrees, wiping his face and dropping the dishcloth back onto the counter. She frowns and hustles him into the bathroom. He doesn't bother closing the door behind him and she can hear the wet _plop_ as his clothes hit the floor. “But Christine's not the one who threw me in the river.”

She gets the story in bits and pieces. The easy connection that they seemed to share, the one Clint had gone on and on about just the other day (which means he mentioned it twice, Clint's hardly a romantic) apparently vanished in the light of day. They suffered through stilted conversation at the restaurant, “and then she said that archery wasn't a real sport,” Clint tells her, stepping out of the shower. 

“What does she think it is, crochet?” Kate demands. She decides the dish towel is a lost cause and throws it into the garbage. 

“Right?” he asks. “So we split the cost of dinner and went our separate ways. I stopped for a quick drink at a quiet bar – a quiet bar!” he defends, even though there's no way he heard her snort of derision from all the way over there. “There were three people in it, I swear. Although,” he goes on, coming out of the bathroom in a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt that's sticking slightly to his wet skin, “it turns out that those three people were all members of a Latvian syndicate. I followed them, interrupted the shipment of arms they were exporting at midnight, and called the police. They caught me before I could get away, though.”

“So that's how you ended up in the river?” Kate asks. She pours him a cup of coffee and hands it over, deciding that he's suffered enough.

“So that's how I ended up in the river,” Clint agrees. He takes the coffee and sips it. “Mmm, that's good. Thanks Katie-Kate.”

“Call me that again, and I'll renege on my offer to set you up with the man of your dreams.”

He sighs, dropping his head over the coffee cup. “I've just finished the third worst date of my – admittedly, pretty terrible – dating career, and you're already pushing that again? You've got a real person in mind, at least, right? This isn't some random offer you're making here.”

“There is no way that scores number three,” Kate challenges, “but yes, I have a real person in mind. I don't know his schedule, so I can't say for sure when would be a good time, but I can guarantee that he won't insult the craft, at the very least.”

“Well,” Clint says, tipping back his head to pour the last bit of coffee down his throat, “there's that.”

 

*

 

Kate gets up a few hours later, after sitting on Clint's ratty couch and watching _The Fellowship of the Ring_ with him in a show of solidarity. He passes out next to her, but makes vague stirring motions when the movie ends, so she puts on _The Two Towers_ before leaving. 

She calls Skye on her way out the building, wondering if the Bus is still in New York or if the team's been called out on another mission already. 

“Hey, hey, Hawkeye,” Skye says, answering her phone. “Do you miss us already?”

“I miss the illusion of sanity,” Kate retorts, deciding to walk for a bit instead of calling a cab. 

“Oh no, did the date go that badly?”

“You have no idea,” Kate tells her, and debates giving a summary. Clint is her friend and something like her mentor, but Skye, Kate's already decided, is one of the sisterhood. “She said archery wasn't a real sport.”

“Ouch,” Skye says, sounding sufficiently unimpressed. “Where does he find these people?”

“I have no idea. He thwarted the Latvian mob after leaving the restaurant, though, so he's not completely hopeless.”

“Just an idiot at relationships?”

“Yeah,” Kate sighs, “basically.”

“I'm pretty sure Coulson's ex tried to kill us all on our second mission out,” Skye offers. “He totally kicked her ass for trying, but she did blow a hole in the Bus.”

“The men in our lives are idiots,” Kate agrees. “Which brings me to my next question – when are you guys back in New York?”

“Uh, probably a week from now, by the looks of things,” Skye tells her. Kate can hear her typing over the line on her laptop. “We're off to Washington State and then Washington, D.C., and then May's flight plan has us back in seven days, barring unforeseen complications.”

“Those do happen.”

“Yeah, they do. Why? Are you... oh, you _are_.”

“Yes, I am,” Kate agrees. “I'll need some help, though.”

“Consider my services guaranteed. What do you have in mind?”

 

*

 

“A coffee shop date?” Clint asks, sounding incredulous.

“Why not?” Kate defends. “It's simple. It's easy. If you don't like each other you can get up and walk away. What's the problem with that?”

“The problem is that you'll be sitting in the corner, staring at us the entire time.”

“Please,” Kate says, dismissively. She knows Skye's already placed the wireless cam and secured them a booth in the diner across the street. “Like I would do that to you.”

Clint gives her a look, so Kate ignores him. “Come on,” she presses, ushering him out of the apartment. “It'll be good for you.”

“What? You mean _now_? But I have – ”

“Absolutely nothing to do that can't wait, and I know, I checked,” Kate tells him. “Besides, you're already dressed for it. Let's go.”

“I'm dressed for it because you threw this shirt at me when I stepped out of the shower, which, in hindsight, should have been my first clue.”

“And if you'd caught it then, you would have had time to run. As it is, just notch this one as a point in my favour and get a move on.”

He sighs, but stops protesting. Kate hails them a cab and shoves him in. 

“Are you going to tell me anything about him, at least?” Clint asks, nervously bouncing his leg in the cab.

“He's older than you,” Kate admits. “Good looking, but not movie-star quality. I worked with him the other week and I like him. He's calm, confident, and pretty funny in a dead-pan sort of way.”

“You worked with him?” Clint asks, narrowing his eyes. “Like, at your dad's publishing company, or...?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, Clint. I'm going to set you up with an ancient geezer whose a friend of my father's, because I'm a terrible human being.” The cab stops in front of the coffee shop and Kate pulls him out.

He glares at her. “I wouldn't put it past you,” he says, as she pays the cabbie and steers him into the shop. “It's that, or – ” He stops when it becomes clear that there's only one person sitting alone at a table, obviously waiting for a date. “Oh, no, Kate. No.”

“No?” she asks, just as Coulson looks up. She can see the slight widening of his eyes that he immediately tries to hide. “What do you mean, no? He's exactly what you need.”

Clint licks his lips. “Yeah, no, Katie, I – ” He stops and swallows, finally turning to address Coulson. “Hi, sir.”

Coulson shifts his glare away from Kate, his gaze softening when he looks at Clint. “Hello, Agent Barton. I apologize for this. It appears certain members of my team are having delusions of grandeur.”

Clint laughs and run a slightly shaky hand through his hair. “Yeah, same here. I, uh, I didn't know you were into guys, sir.”

“I think we can drop the 'sir' since we've apparently been set up on a date,” Coulson tells him. “And I'm not, usually, but Skye made a very convincing case.” He looks down for a moment, playing with the handle of his coffee cup. “I, er, would like you to stay, though, if you would. At least for a drink. It's been a while since we've had a chance to catch up.”

“Sure,” Clint blurts out, then stops and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I mean, yeah, since we're here already, I, uh, I could stay and chat for a bit.”

Coulson looks up at him and smiles. It's a small smile, but it goes all the way to his eyes. “Let me get you a cup of coffee, then.”

Clint grins at him. “I like coffee.”

Coulson laughs. “I know you do, Ag – uh, Clint.”

Kate smiles as Clint beams at him, then bites her lip when Coulson turns to glare at her again. She hooks a thumb over her shoulder. “I'll just... go see what Skye is up to. You kids have fun.”

Clint rolls his eyes, but follows Coulson to the counter. Kate's definitely calling this a win.

 

*

 

Skye is the best kind of friend to have, because password-coded security means nothing to her.

“They're texting each other again.”

Kate grins and shifts the phone to her other ear. She and Lucky are jogging in central park, since she might be Hawkeye but she's not an idiot. Besides, Lucky could use the exercise. Clint ordered pizza last night and then left for a surprise date with Coulson before he could eat any of it. She'd come over this morning to find Clint doing the dishes with a sappy smile on his face and Lucky groaning in the corner, over-full.

“What are they saying?”

“Are you asking me to run a de-encrypt software and tell you?”

“I love when you pretend like you aren't doing it already. It's cute.”

“That's because I'm adorable,” Skye retorts. “Okay, so far they're just saying they each had a good time last time.”

Kate laughs, picking up her pace. “We are certifiable geniuses, did you know that?”

“I'm beginning to suspect,” Skye agrees. She does some typing, and then says, “Looks like May's making a course correction. We'll be back in New York by the end of the week.”

“Perfect. Do you want to grab some dinner and celebrate?”

“It's a date,” Skye says. There's no video connection, but Kate can totally tell she's smiling. “I need to pick your brain for ideas about Fitz and Ward, anyway. Those two are getting ridiculous.”

“I'll meet you at the diner,” Kate tells her. “Text me the date and time when you know it.” 

They hang up. Kate stops to high-five Lucky, who offers her a paw and a doggy grin. “Agreeing to stop and help take down evil flying robots?” she tells him, grinning back. “Best idea ever.”


End file.
